


The Not-So Distant Future

by tosca1390



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This year was different. Beyond James, beyond the watery future that lay before her; there was a change in the air of the school, of the world outside that she couldn’t place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Not-So Distant Future

*

Two hours after Quidditch practice, James was still missing from the common room, from the library, from the Owlery– from all their usual haunts. Essays finished and reading set aside, Lily plopped down next to Sirius in front of the hearth, pulling her hair up off her neck into a low messy knot. It was odd to find any of the four of them (James, Sirius, Remus, Peter) alone, and yet. 

“Hey, Black.”

Sirius slanted a glance at her for a moment, his quill scrawling across wide lengths of parchment. His dark hair falls messily across his brow. She and Sirius were still wary with one another, even after two months of her dating James. He wasn’t used to second place, she thought. She didn’t think it had to be a contest, but boys would be boys, and these boys – there was something else to them, after all. James still hadn’t come right out and told her about Remus and his lycanthropy, though she had reckoned it out all the same. 

There were moments, when he ducked his head and mumbled something about revising with the boys on every full moon, when she just wanted to smack the back of his head and yell at him to just _tell_ her already. But they weren’t _there_ yet, for all the bare skin his hands and mouth had seen. 

Now she was dealing with Sirius, and that was another strategic plan all together. “Evans. What do I owe the pleasure of your close company?”

She wet her lips, teeth digging into the inside of her cheek. “Have you seen James?” 

“Not since practice,” he said, glancing over her. She wrinkled her nose, smoothing her hands over her thick black jumper. “I’m not his keeper.”

“Could have fooled me,” she retorted, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. “Did practice go well?”

Sirius set his quill down, brows raised. “Well enough. You worried for him, Evans?”

“You can call me Lily, you know,” she said with a sigh. 

“I don’t hear you calling me Sirius.”

She pressed her fingers to her temples. “He was supposed to meet me earlier, that’s all.”

Sirius leaned back against the plush sofa cushions, an odd sort of smirk playing at his mouth. “He wanted to get some more time in the air. That’s all.”

“So he’s still down there?” she asked. 

“I would reckon so. Scouts are coming this weekend. He’s a little twitchy over it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Reckoned as much,” she muttered, rising and rubbing her hands together. “Thanks.”

He nodded at her, gaze dark. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the room and moved to the portrait hole, heavy on her back. 

_We’ll get there_ , she thought as she climbed through the portrait hole and into the cool corridor. _We’ll get there_. 

*

It was the time of year where the sun set earlier; it was barely five in the afternoon, but the sky was purple-blue with dusk, the sun just a orange haze through the thick forest. Lily tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she walked down the hill towards the Quidditch Pitch and the changing rooms. A cool breeze curled through her jumper, sending a shiver down her spine. The smell of smoke and dying leaves lingered in her nose as she ducked her chin against her shoulder. 

This year was different. Beyond James, beyond the watery future that lay before her; there was a change in the air of the school, of the world outside that she couldn’t place. Her parents were beyond it, Petunia lost to her, and now she could feel her grip on the magical world slipping. Severus was long lost to her, the dungeons and dark magic his new friends; there were times she missed his company, missed his advice, his slow sharp tone. Once she started seeing James, she knew that friendship was closed to her permanently. Even if she had been able to forgive his leanings, his touches with darkness – but that didn’t matter now, she reckoned. 

The world was coming down to the choosing of sides. She didn’t know how any of them would come out untouched. 

As she approached the edge of the pitch, she saw that it was empty, all open dark skies and silence. She turned for the changing rooms, glancing up only for a moment at the broad silhouette of the castle in the deepening dusk. Dumbledore’s reach could only protect them all for so long, and school would be a safe haven no longer. 

She shook her head, grimacing as she pushed the door to the changing rooms open. _Stop it_ , she thought to herself, leaning back against the door with a sigh as it shut with a soft sucking sound. _Stop it, Evans_.

It wasn’t enough to shake the chill now settled in her stomach. 

“Evans,” James said, voice thick with surprise. “What the hell are you doing down here?”

She looked him over, eyebrows raised. He sat on the long wooden bench in front of the lockers, still in his practice attire, his broom leaning up against the wall in front of him. In the warm yellow light he looked pale and a little off-kilter, mouth pursed thinly. It was unfamiliar to her; if there was anything James Potter was, he was always ready with a brash comment and a smile. Certainly, she knew something of the other James Potter, who was worried for his parents’ failing health and for Sirius’s too-risky nature, but it was still strange to see him so still and quiet, even alone. 

“Looking for you. Still calling me Evans?” she asked at last, pushing off of the door and walking towards him briskly. 

He smiled then, a shade of his usual bravado stretching thin across his face. “It’s a hard habit to break.”

A flush rising at her throat, Lily stopped directly in front of him, hands planted on her hips. “But we’ve picked up so many new ones,” she teased, her fingers curling into the wide belt loops of her jeans. 

His wide hands settled at her hips, fingers brushing at the thin fabric of the denim. “These new?” he asked, his glasses perched at the very end of his nose. He still wouldn’t look up at her. 

She slipped a hand into his messy hair, fingers twining in the thick hair. “They’re jeans, I don’t know,” she said impatiently. Alice had made her buy them over the summer, when Lily had gone to visit her to escape the thick static silence of her childhood home. “James, what are you doing down here still?”

“What time is it?” he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh at her thighs. 

Biting the inside of her lip, she smoothed her hand through his hair and down to the nape of his neck. He was cold to the touch where he ought to be warm. “Past five. Practice has been over for hours.”

“Ah. Well, sorry,” he said with a shrug, his eyes staring somewhere past her waist. 

She pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, her thumb sliding over his brow. “Sorry? Since when do you say _sorry_?”

He scowled, his grip tightening on her thighs. His forehead brushed close to her stomach, the thick wool of her jumper. “Did you come all the way down here to berate me, Evans?”

Her fingers pressed at the nape of his neck, her thumb finding the pulse near his jaw. Sometimes she was still too defensive, and he was too sharp and shuttered. They had yet to find a balance to work for them, but every day they edged closer. The progression reassured her. “No,” she said softly. “I came to find you.”

A sigh rippled through his skin, reverberating in her fingertips. “Scouts are coming to the match next weekend.”

“So I heard from Sirius,” she said. 

James rested his chin on her stomach and smiled slightly. Messy dark fringe fell into his eyes. “You talked to Sirius?”

“Well, when you disappeared I had to ask someone about you,” she said wryly. “Sirius always seems like a good bet.”

His fingers skirted up and down the lengths of her thighs. She was suddenly hyper-aware of their solitude, the press of his face to her jumper, the way his knees bracketed either side of hers. “He’ll warm up to you.”

“We’re getting there,” she said lightly. “I didn’t come down here to talk about Sirius, though.”

“Color me shocked.”

“James,” she said warningly, her fingers tugging at the ends of his hair at his neck. 

With a sharp little smile, he tugged her towards him. Her knees hit the bench as she slid to a straddle across his lap. Their faces were nearly even now, as she shifted her weight, legs pressed to the bench at either side of his hip. “Scouts are coming,” he repeated, his brow pressed to hers. 

She tilted her head. “And?”

“And if I play well, then – well –“ He shrugged. 

The chill from her walk earlier settled in her stomach, the weight of a future still undecided on her shoulders. For the first time, though, she felt as if it was a _shared_ future. That was nearly as frightening as the thought of her solitary decisions to come. “Then perhaps you’ll get an offer,” she said quietly. 

He shrugged again, eyes fixed on the line of her throat. She could feel the flush rising on her throat and cheeks, warm on her skin. “Do I want that?”

“I rather think that’s up to you,” she said quietly. 

His fingers twitched at her thighs. “Oh,” he said, very softly. 

_Oh_ , she thought, wetting her lips. “I just mean – well –“

“No, you’re right,” he muttered, turning his face from hers. 

“Oh stop it, Potter,” she said sharply. “If you want to talk about it, you can just say so!”

“Reckoned I just did!” he retorted. 

“Not very well,” she murmured, fitting her cheek to his palm and turning his face back to hers. She leaned close enough to brush her mouth across his. She didn’t count kisses or touches like some other girls did, but it was still new enough for her to flush with the feel of his chapped mouth on hers. “Okay. Do you want to play Quidditch?”

“No,” he said, too quickly for her to catch at first. His mouth set itself into serious lines, his brow furrowed deeply. All of them looked older than they ought to, she thought sadly. “No. I have the O.W.L. scores to apply for the Auror program, and I want to.”

“Okay. Then what are you getting all worked up for?” she asked exasperatedly. 

“Because – I wanted – we haven’t talked about it, and I didn’t –“

Shaking her head, she leaned in and kissed him into silence, her teeth sliding over his bottom lip. “I want you to do whatever you want to do. When have I ever not given you that impression?” she asked against his mouth, her fingers sliding over the thin frames of his glasses, sliding them from his face. She set them on the bench next to them, for safekeeping. 

His gaze blurred and refocused on her face, his hands sharp and wanting at her thighs. “You haven’t. I just – I wanted to ask,” he murmured, voice dropping low in his throat. It sent a shudder right through her spine. “If we’re going to _do this_ , as you so often like to say –“

“With reason –“

“Then I wanted to ask. To talk about it,” he finished, dark gaze narrowed. 

“Okay,” she said, kissing him lightly. “Okay.” 

His hands moved to the hem of her thick jumper, fingers curling under to the bare skin of her stomach. “Girls like to talk about that shit, don’t they?” he asked at her mouth, voice light and teasing. 

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered as she pressed in closer and slid her hands over the shirt of his practice kit, fingers digging into his chest as their mouths knocked together. 

“Right here, then?” he asked with a smirk. 

In response, she bit at his bottom lip, her tongue wet at the seam of his mouth. His body shifted under her, and somehow she found herself with her back pressed to the bench, his chest pressed to hers as her thighs tightened at his waist. The clattering of his glasses to the stone floor with a sharp sound echoed in her ears. His fingers caught and twined in the thick wool of her jumper, sliding it up and over her head. 

“Moving right along,” she murmured, shaking her hair free of the collar of her jumper. Her skin prickled into goosebumps as the air hit it. 

Her jumper discarded to the floor, James slid his hands into the loose knot of her hair, pulling it from its tie. Waves fell thick and heavy across her bare shoulders. “I don’t like wasting time,” he said quietly, his voice low against her cheek. 

She dug her fingers into his ribs, sliding her hands down to the waist of his uniform pants. His bare skin was warm to the touch, the jut of his hipbones prominent. He was a bony thing, for his broad shoulders. “Neither do I,” she said as their mouths pressed together once more. 

His hands smoothed down the tangled lengths of her hair to her breasts, palming them through the cotton of her bra. She nearly laughed into his mouth at the predictability; every time, every way, and every place. Arching into his touch, she licked into his mouth and sighed through his name as their hips slotted together, her fingers working at the buttons on his trousers. They were not shy with each other, with their hands and mouths. She wouldn’t start now. 

“I like thinking ahead,” he muttered against her skin, his mouth moving along the line of her throat as she pushed down his trousers. 

Her fingers slid underneath the band of his boxers, to his half-hard cock. “What?” she said, breathless. She could feel the sweat beading at her brow, a slow ache curling in her middle. The bench was unforgiving under her, but right now she could care less. 

He groaned into the thin skin of her throat, a stuttered hoarse sound that rattled right down to her bones. “I want to think ahead. With you,” he gritted out through his teeth. 

She sighed, her fingers settling at the base of his cock. “I do too. Maybe not right this moment, James,” she murmured. 

His hips stuttered against hers as he cursed under his breath. His hand slipped between their stomachs to the button of her jeans. “You need to wear skirts all the time,” he moaned. 

Laughing, she shifted her hips to accommodate his searching fingers. “It was _cold_ ,” she said with a sigh as his tongue finds the hollow of her collarbone. 

“I don’t care,” he mumbled against her skin. He managed to get her jeans past her thighs, the air cool as it curled into the small spaces between their bodies. His fingers pressed between her thighs, sliding under her knickers and into the slick heat there. She sighed with the contact, her grip shifting on his cock. “God, _Lily_ ,” he groaned as her thumb passed over the damp slit of his cock, his fingers trembling between her thighs. 

She liked their time spent this way, with his curious fingers at her clit and curled inside her, and his mouth at her breast. There was a sense of stretching out, of time ticking more slowly around them, to give them the moments they have only started to appreciate. She could shut her mind off, and focus on the bite of his teeth at her skin, the press of his thumb on her clit, the weight of his cock in her hands. 

Her fingers scraped lightly, twisted with vigor; she measured each response by the change in his breath, the press of his hips into her touch. With a groan and a hard jerk of his hips, he came, wet and hot on her fingertips. His brow pressed to her sternum, he mouthed at her skin, her name a hollow echo between their bodies. His fingers paused in her, the pad of his thumb just a tease away from her clit. 

“James,” she murmured, her fingers sticky at his hips. She shifted her hips into his touch, moaning faintly. 

He raised his flushed face to her gaze, eyes too dark and fringe a mess across his brow. “Lily, I –“

She moved her hips against his, jarring his thumb against her as his mouth caught at her shoulder with the arch of her back. The heat crested through her, a hard flush on her pale freckled skin. His mouth moved from the curve of her breast up towards her mouth, her name soft and thick on his tongue. With two fingers inside her and his mouth on hers, she came with no breath in her lungs and his name a stutter on her lips. 

His hand slid from between her thighs to the bare skin of her stomach. She felt like a mess, with her jeans caught at her thighs and her legs dangling off the bench. But his mouth was sweet and slow on hers, and the scent of them was a comfort in the air, belying the smoky leaves of autumn waiting for them outside. Her heart still beat hard against her ribs, a slow winding down. Her muscles still trembled against his. 

“I reckon my thinking far ahead scares you,” he murmured at her cheek, his hand carding through her hair. His wet fingers lingered at her stomach, drumming a soft beat against her skin. 

Lily sighed against his skin, her hands easy on his hips. “No, it doesn’t,” she said softly. 

Perhaps that was what scared her, she thought as they finally disentangled themselves from the other, cleaning charms abounding from her mouth and his wand. Even if her future was watery, his presence in it wasn’t. Still, as she put his glasses on for him and he buttoned her jeans before they fled the changing room, it made the coming realities of the real world more bearable. 

*


End file.
